ABC - Penance

I left the townsite behind, the buildings and streets of Unity vanishing behind a bend in the road. The route climbed swiftly, showing occasional fields of machine-tended crops on either side. Soon these gave way to unbroken stretches of dense forest, the eaves dark and menacing like a primeval jungle.

A solitary farm flashed by on my left, the buildings old and badly maintained. I saw a figure working in a field of leafy green plants, turning to watch my bike whine past with a hand raised to shade their eyes. I waved briefly but they didn’t return the gesture before I had raced past.

The road became narrower as I ascended the valley ridge, scrubby plants and creepers encroaching onto the cracked tarmac. When I reached the crest, the road was barely level for a hundred meters before descending into the next valley.

From the road I could see little signs of cultivation or even civilisation. The narrow stretch of faded grey tarmac was hemmed in by lush vegetation, the only sign of habitation a lone comms tower I could spy in the distance. That had to be where the old camp was, so I gunned my bike and flew down the road, heading for that spot.

As the road levelled out, I saw a dilapidated sign hung by a single remaining bolt to a rusted post, the only indication the townsite was ahead. I could still make out the white lettering on black that spelt out the name ‘Unity’, the whole sign peppered with bullet holes.

Beyond the sign I came to a crossroads, hemmed in by collapsing shop fronts and an abandoned motel. The road continued further west, becoming a single lane of tarmac winding its way up the far side of the valley. To my left was a broad double lane road, with a faded sign declaring I was about to enter a Restricted Zone. That too was decorated with an abstract pattern of holes, punched in by shots from bored locals I presumed.

I rode my bike under the cover of an empty garage situated at the back of a diner. The place was long out of use, the windows that faced the road grimy and opaque where they still remained, the others cracked and broken. Once I turned the engines off, a heavy silence descended on the place. Not even bird calls could be heard, the emptiness settling like a mantle across me.

My ride should be concealed from anyone passing down the road, so I hoped it would remain unmolested. I checked I had all the gear I needed then set off on foot, moving carefully through the treeline on a parallel course to the access road.

The old camp came in sight after about five hundred meters of tramping through the vegetation. It was not a hard slog but would have been much easier following the paved road. Except I wanted to stay out of sight for as long as possible so skulking under the overhanging trees kept me hidden. Or so I hoped.

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Labour Camp One – Original site.

From within the trees I scanned the old Camp, using my Smart Goggles to enlarge and enhance the image. Like its newer copy, the Camp was surrounded by two fences made of mesh, with concrete towers at the corners and interspersed along the sides.

The outer mesh fence looked intact except for a section collapsed beneath a fallen tree. Spaced every fifty meters or so were rust streaked signs warning that the grounds beyond were mined. I ran my eyes over the inner ground, seeing small trees and shrubs dotted in the previously open ground. I assumed the mines had been removed whenever the camp was relocated. At least that was what I hoped.

Further in lay the main fence, heavy mesh topped with scraps of razor wire. A walkway ran across the top, linking a series of concrete towers that ran all the way around the inner perimeter. From here the fence looked climbable, assuming there was no-one still in the towers to shoot at me.

I switched my gaze to the front gates. Same as at the new Camp One, a double series of barriers cut across the inner and outer fences. The gates appeared open and I was sorely tempted to waltz in that way, but a sense of caution stopped me from that course of action.

If the Camp was still being used, there could be monitoring devices watching the entrance. Ghost would have gone in a back way and that was my choice too. I looked at the fallen tree again, neatly bisecting the outer fence. That would get me to the inner section and from there I could climb the second wall.

Mind made up, I circled the walls until I got to the base of the tree. Its roots pointed to the sky, the massive tree felled by a storm I reckoned. I clambered onto the bole and like an armoured tight rope walker quickly scurried along the fallen trunk. As soon as I was inside the fence-line I dropped to the ground, crouching and scanning the inner towers.

Nobody called out a challenge and nothing moved , so I got to my feet and started at a slow run towards the next barrier, keeping my head as low as possible. I wove between re-growth trees and low scrub, my feet following narrow trails made by local fauna.

I was halfway to the second wall when I spotted a large crater to my left, maybe two meters in diameter. The rotting carcass of a grey Kangaroo was splayed over the ruptured earth, its decaying flesh sending a wall of putrid stench into my nostrils.

It took two more steps before my brain registered what I was seeing and in that time I could have died. I stopped suddenly and awkwardly, swaying a little as I rebalanced myself.

The minefield was still active and I was slap bang in the middle of it.

Fuckity-fuck-fuck I intoned mentally, not even daring to swear aloud in case something blew up. I set my Smart Goggles to magnify and I started scanning the ground at my feet then roaming across the flat expanse ahead of me.

Small trees had pushed up through the untended soil along with ground hugging shrubs and ferns. What little ground wasn’t occupied by these had a vibrant green grass growing everywhere. The only bare dirt I could see was from the animal trails, which I had been following.

I examined the crater from the mine explosion using my amplified vision. The unlucky marsupial had not been on an obvious trail, maybe looking for some unsullied plants to nibble on. Whatever the reason, I thought that so long as I stayed on a trail it should be mine free.

With slow measured steps I began walking once more, careful to place my feet in the centre of the worn trail. Progress was slow and I had to stop every so often to check my surroundings. The foliage was not dense enough to hide me from observers on the inner wall, which was another reason I had to keep moving.

It was one of my checks on the Camp walls that caught me out. I had stepped forwards while looking up rather than at my feet. My foot depressed the ground unexpectedly and I heard a distinct click. The kind of click in a minefield that loosens your sphincter and makes you think of Mama.

I stopped moving and kept my foot in exactly the same place and pressure, awkwardly balanced mid-stride. Cue another internal monologue of mainly the F-word while I tried to figure out my next action.

Traditional wisdom, mainly borne from many old War movies I had watched with Papa, said that the mine would only detonate when pressure was released from the trigger. To avoid blowing my legs off I needed to somehow get another object in place to hold the trigger while I scampered to safety.

In those same old War movies, it was the hero of the story who did this brave act, saving the life of his buddy. I looked around and there was no hero to come and save little Luisa. If I wanted to be saved, I had to do it myself.

My thought was that if I could push down in the same spot as where my boot currently rested, I could at least move to the side. I did an inventory of what I had available that was long and solid enough. It came down to my Machine Pistol or my Shock Rod. The rod was too short I decided, so I extended the folding shoulder stock on the gun to its maximum length. By holding onto the barrel I reckoned I could brace the shoulder rest where my foot was.

Stock extended and locked, I pushed down hard on the ground next to my boot. Slowly I slid my foot sideways, keeping the shoulder rest hard against the edge of my sole. I felt the firm pad of the mine slip out from under my boot and I had it held fast with my Machine Pistol.

Nothing went boom so I moved my feet away, holding my arm out as far as I could to keep up the pressure on the mine. It must have looked hilarious, seeing this short woman stretching her arm out while shuffling her body backwards.

I was at the limit of my reach and my precious body was still barely a meter and a half from the mine. With a quick prayer I pulled my gun away and dove to my right, trying to get as low as possible to the ground before the blast shredded the space I had been in.

The only sound was a grassy thump as I landed on some ground cover. I slowly sat up and looked at where I had been standing, seeing the dull plastic circle of the mine protruding from the dirt. It was a dud!

While my heart started beating again, I sat there and contemplated my personal luck. Is it bad luck to stand on a mine, or good luck to stand on a mine that is faulty? Pondering such thoughts my head rolled to the side and saw a second mine about a handspan from my right thumb.

If I had landed only slightly further to one side, I would have escaped one mine by jumping on another! Now that I knew what the bastards looked like, I used the zoom function on my goggles to check the path ahead of me. I spotted a couple more suspicious mounds in the dirt where the earth had settled slightly, leaving the mines higher than the surroundings.

I climbed back to my feet, careful to avoid the two mines closest to me. My Machine Pistol was slung back across my shoulders and I continued on, eyes locked to the path I was following.

The only warning I had that the minefield ended was when I suddenly walked into shadow. I looked up and saw the heavy mesh of the inner fence, the Camp buildings visible beyond. My feet took me the last steps to the fence and I turned and placed my back against it. From here I could survey the hundred meters that lay between me and the gap in the outer fence.

As a linear distance, it was nothing. A hundred paces across flat ground, something I could do as easily as breathing. Yet I swore I was never crossing this bit of earth again, so help me god. However I was going to leave this place, it wasn’t by walking through that fucking minefield again.

I pushed the field of death-traps from my mind and focussed on the next task, climbing the inner wall.

“Piece of cake” I declared and put my hands into the mesh, climbing upwards.

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The mesh was relatively easy to climb and from that I clambered onto the walkway that surmounted it. I crouched in the lee of a railing post and used my Smart Goggles to look over the inner compound.

All of the buildings were made of pre-fab concrete panels, windows recessed and filled with dusty glass. They were three storeys high, at least what I could see above ground, and formed a rectangle that surrounded a paved courtyard.

Open sided walkways connected each of the buildings, with staircases connecting the levels. Everything had an air of neglect, with the concrete walls showing cracks and long white stains, weeds hemming the base of the structures and sprouting from rusty gutters.

Broken solar panels covered the upper roofs, big gaps showing the remnants of support frames where the panels had been taken away, likely recycled by enterprising locals.

Overall it was a big place and I wondered where to begin looking. Then my searching gaze alighted on one building. This one had new, undamaged solar panels on the roof and I could see a satellite dish still mounted at the apex of the sloped roof sheets.

“Found you” I congratulated myself and began the climb down the inner side of the fence